On the Bearded Dragon that Kept Charging His Glass Cage at the Pet Store

Published in a 2006 edition of Women's Press of San Luis Obispo

It may have been the squattish toddler,

slapping the glass with his chubby hands--

plap, plap, they went--

like the sound of someone dropping moist pancakes

one by one onto a marble counter top,

that bothered the bearded dragon so.

Or it could have been the sweaty fingerprints,

streaked across what the dragon knew as home.

And if it was the fingerprints, I could sympathize.

After all I had worked in an ice cream store;

I had cleaned my share of oily nose blodges

and foggy little mouth marks off the glass cases.

Still, though, I like the dragon was conscious

of what he was doing, that there was some emotional 

drive behind it; that he wasn't scratching at the

glass because he hated his reflection or because 

he was bored. I remember him because of the way

he stood on his hind legs and placed two front claws

on the enclosure, like an inmate talking to a family member 

during visiting hours. Whatever the reason, though,

my favorite theory is the bearded dragon was lonely,

and just wanted a hug.